He-Who-Knows-Death
by Benevolent Darkness
Summary: "Death brings us all together. It's the one thing everybody can share." In death, everything is equal. There is no right or wrong; evil means nothing. On the verge of death, Harry and Voldemort stare each other in the eye. Then, Harry is gone.


This can either be a one-shot, or a multi-chapter story. It's for the readers to decide. Details are at the bottom. Currently, this is more of a drabble between several characters with a lot of negatively charged emotions flowing through its entirety. Hope you like it.

* * *

_Eyes that know death, but are uncertain of his name_

_Shall bleed the pain away, wishing sorrow; nothing happens._

_Hope, righteous; know thy name of death, everlasting,_

_For he shall come to you and you will know no more._

_Good nor evil be judged, but all connect in sleep._

_Good nor evil be judged, for all connect in sleep, eternally._

_-Anonymous_

* * *

"You know, when I told you… I wouldn't… join you because I wouldn't live long if I did…?"

There was a man lying on the ground. He held a pale complexion and almost resembled a snake. His teeth were serrated, and his eyes glowed an ominous red. But, none of this mattered. None of this mattered as that man lay on the ground, eyes half closed, dying; a boy not even into his twenties standing over him, black hair shading his eyes. Nothing really mattered anymore about this man. He was done. Gone. He'll be forgotten by time and the world will simply go on without him, for the better or for the worse.

"I was telling the truth. I'm going to die, soon. I probably- AHHH!" The black haired boy fell to the ground, using his hands to support himself. "Heh…" was all he ground out, then.

There was some wheezing, then "Why… did you… choose that old fool… over me…?" It was the pale man. The snake.

"I… don't know. Maybe it was to honor the memory of my parents. For what… it's worth… I'm sorry."

"Why would you… be sorry? I was the one trying to… kill you…" the snake gave no remorse in his speech. There was no remorse in death.

"I'm sorry for the life you've lived. I feel the pain bred in you. The reason for your hate and misery…"

"Shut up…" the pale man spoke up. The black haired boy took no heed of the words. Instead, the black haired boy simply looked at the pale man through the distorted image of the man through cracked glasses and continued.

"Your father hated you." The words were a quiet whisper through the pain. "He hated you for your mother's death. He hated you for his losses and scorned you through his gains."

"Shut up!" the pale man yelled more forcefully, followed by dying coughs.

The black haired boy waited for it to quiet down. He crawled closer, so to get a better view of the man he had killed, who was dying. The grass around smeared with the dark purple blood smearing on the ground; blood soaked in poison- venom- which had been killing him for years. The grass wilted from the deathly venom. Everything just seemed to die around him.

"You thought that all people are evil. Your meetings with death; the death of your friends, of your loved ones, of your world. Those meetings set your beliefs and thoughts into a circle of hatred. You wanted peace. Dumbledor wanted peace. All anybody ever strives for is peace. People kill each other just to have a semblance of peace…"

"SHUT UP! You don't know ANYTHING!"

A silence was drawn out. An unwavering silence that threatened to spill over both of their bones, freezing it all into the belly of death. If they were lucky, they would simply freeze to death instead of the pain they were enduring.

Then, they both burst out laughing. Some tears came to the black haired boy's green eyes. "I can't believe I'm sympathizing with a mass murderer," the black haired boy ground out before falling the rest of the way to the ground. He lay on the grass, unable to moves anymore. He was close to losing cognitive thought.

The pale man managed to stop laughing, instead turning it into a morose chuckle. It was almost somber. It hurt to do it, but he couldn't stop.

"Death brings us all together. It's the one thing everybody can share. It's peace. Maybe you were right." There was a pause. "I guess we'll never know."

There was another round of pained laughing before the black haired boy coughed up some blood. It was purple, as well. A dark, deep, sickly shade of violet.

Another long silence emerged. It was drawn out and sympathetic. It took no sides, and held no beliefs. It knew that to bring in beliefs was to bring pain to death. The absence of noise knew that to be broken would mean to destroy good and evil.

It shattered anyway; broken by the pale man through the act of sober chuckling.

"I guess I got my wish after all." The pale man slowly rolled over onto his back and stared at the gray sky. There was no light, and no darkness. Everything was stuck in some sort of twilight, refusing to take any sides. This was a war that nobody won.

The pale man continued, slowly. "Everybody will remember me as the evil that took the greatest good. I'll always be remembered. I'll always be immortal in the minds of humans."

There was another short, but loud, laugh. "Immortality sucks."

The pale man laughed long and hard. He wheezed when he couldn't laugh anymore. He looked to the black haired, green eyed man and stared at the unmoving and unhearing body strewn on the dying grass. He stared for an unperceivable amount of time. An unmoving amount of time.

Then, he spoke, unsteadily. "Harry?" There was no response. "Harry? Are you dead?" The pale man laughed and wheezed again. He coughed some blood onto the ground, unnaturally red, yet actually red and human. _Human._ It was a scary thought.

"One must die for the other to live…" The pale man laughed up to his death. He died with his eyes open, bleeding to a beautiful emerald green. A small smile and parted lips would be forever plastered on his face until he was nothing but dust in the wind.

A girl, a redhead, walked out to the spot hours later. She was part of the excavation team sent to gather the bodies of the fallen. Her hair was tied into a ponytail to prevent blood from soaking it. Her hands were done in gloves, just in case she had to touch to newly dead.

She came upon the scene, her face schooled into a look of apathy. She had to. If she didn't she would surely break down in tears and run away from her troubles. Instead, she looked straight into their eye.

She walked over and saw to body of the pale man, lying with a smile and ironic glassy eyes. The girl adopted a look of heavy rage, a break in the pathetic apathy she forced into herself.

"Fuck you," she whispered. "Fuck you and everybody that helped you." She kicked the body as hard as she could, sending the body tumbling away a few feet. She ran over and kicked it again. "Fuck you Voldemort! Fuck you!" She kept kicking. Her foot was starting to hurt. She was panting slightly.

The girl tried to kick again, but was held back by a pair of arms. She screamed and fought against the person. "Ginny! Stop! He's dead. There's no need to desecrate his corpse."

The girl, Ginny, calmed down slightly. The arms around her relaxed. "He fucking started a war! So many people are dead because of him!" She broke away and kicked Voldemort's body again before she was tackled.

"Get off Hermione! He fucking killed our friends! Ron's dead! Neville's dead! Everybody's dead, and it's because of him! Harry's probably de-ead…"

Ginny felt tears come to her eyes. The pain of loss scared her. It killed her. She almost wanted to die.

Hermione got off, slowly, ready to restrain Ginny if need be. She observed Voldemort's corpse, and then cast an igniting spell to get rid of the painful reminder. She couldn't bear the sight of that smile anymore. It made him look happy. Voldemort didn't deserve to be happy, even in death.

Both girls looked around for any more bodies. There were none. All they could find was a dark splotch of purple in the grass, and assumed it was Voldemort's blood. The red they saw on Voldemort was reasoned to be Harry's blood when they fought. The two stood up and left, quietly. Ginny put her apathetic mask back on, not showing any further weakness. Hermione had a small smile, knowing that Voldemort was truly dead.

* * *

I want to know if you people want me to continue this or not. If you do, then just review saying that you want me to continue. It it's continued, then it will become an almost time/reality travel-esque story, or I can just leave it as is. Either are fine by me. If it is changed, then the summary will change to something like:

Harry was always different. He should have realized it when he survived the killing curse twice, or when the infamous sorcerer's stone disappeared after first year, with nobody knowing what happened to it. He finally realizes just how he is when he stares a basilisk in the eye and gets bitten... and survives.

Let me know what you think. It will be a small crossover, just in terms of abilities, with the Final Fantasy series and the Naruto series. I'll keep it interesting and new. It'll be kind of like my other story "Black Flames", only more concentrated and hopefully a lot better since this story doesn't jump around every chapter. This'll have more mystery in it, too.

Hope you enjoyed.

Benedark, the end is neigh... wait, that's totally cliched. Benedark, disco revolu... forget I started that though. Benedark, oh screw it!


End file.
